Disaster a lesson for others

Katrina victims refuse to give up.

Katrina victims refuse to give up.

April 18, 2006|JUDY BRADFORD

"I'm tired. I'm burned out. I know we were stubborn, deciding to rebuild, but I just can't do it alone anymore. My husband just went back to work, and now I'm here alone, all day, working on it." Sugi, a petite woman in her mid-30s, was the homeowner of a modest, two-bedroom ranch in Gulfport, Miss. I met her while our week-long United Methodist Disaster Relief work team was working on her neighbor's home, just two blocks from the beach. Sugi wanted to know if our team could work on her home, too. When Katrina and its resulting surge of seawater hit on Aug. 29, she and her husband evacuated. When they returned, they had to crawl through rubble and then break down the doors of their home. The wooden floors had swelled several feet, blocking the doorways. Seven months later, they have "mucked out" their own home -- the phrase used to describe shoveling out muddy seawater and sewage mixed with debris. The smell is so powerful, you have to wear a face mask and take frequent breaks for fresh air. Afterward, you want to shower immediately. They've made many repairs to the roof and walls, but their insurance claim money -- $26,000 -- only went so far. They still have a lot to do. Other homes we worked on were far less advanced in the rebuilding phase. One of them had mold so bad in the drywall and ceilings that the smell could be detected from the front yard. The owner has an aging, disabled mother and a developmentally disabled daughter. Her life was already complicated before the storm, and she's just now starting to rebuild. In another home, we finished mucking out a pantry and closets. Three women, all in their 80s, had stayed in the house during the storm. They had to wade through water up to their chests for about five hours until help came. Many homeowners are still living in trailers. They cannot get contractors to work on their homes because the contractors are already too busy. They're tired of dealing with governmental or insurance red tape to pay for labor. That's why volunteer groups are so important on the Gulf Coast right now. They do the work for free, and will continue to be important in the rebuilding process for the next five years. Some officials say ten. Individual pictures do not give you the whole story. When our 26-member work team first arrived in a bus, we took a "disaster tour" down Highway 90, which follows the coastline. The bus got quiet real fast. The beachfront still looks like the aftermath of a war -- as if bombs had destroyed every hotel, restaurant and historical home. There are piles of debris everywhere. Farther inland, homes deemed worthy of rebuilding routinely deplete local stores of sheetrock and roofing materials. An estimated 38,000 homes in Gulfport alone were damaged or destroyed. The coastline is some 60 miles long. To get a better picture of the scope of the disaster, just multiply that 38,000 times all the communities along the coast, including Bay St. Louis, Pass Christian, Waveland, Long Beach and Biloxi. Our team worked out of a United Methodist church that had served as a relief center for Katrina survivors right after the storm. It now serves as a base camp for around 100 volunteers each week; it's booked solid through July. We finished, or carried on, the work of other volunteer groups that had been before us. We knew others would follow us. I experienced life-changing lessons. As I handed Sugi the name of our sponsoring relief organization and its phone number, I thought of all the things I cherish and often take for granted. Like my husband. I can't begin to imagine the horror of wondering, for three days, if he were still alive -- as one church member did when she evacuated (her husband had stayed behind to work with Civil Defense.) I have a home that is intact. All I have to do is vacuum and dust it -- and carry out everyday garbage. I live in a community that doesn't have to pray that the next hurricane season will be a mild one. I learned other lessons, too. I was inspired by their hope and their ability to move forward against so many odds. I learned that there may come a time when I have to swallow my pride, and it will be OK to accept help. I learned that the things I complain about in my life, here, are really, really stupid and unimportant by comparison. Judy Bradford of South Bend is a correspondent for The Tribune.